


You Can't

by Feran_Sensei



Category: Saints Row
Genre: (hopefully), AU, Angst, Gen, M/M, Of sorts?, Possible sex in the future, Saints Row: The Third (Freeform), Suspense, boss james, bottom johnny, ehhh, in which we have, james mcbeck, johnny can have one sided feelings too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feran_Sensei/pseuds/Feran_Sensei
Summary: There was a very limited number of things that scared Johnny Gat.Getting killed was not one of them.orGat has feelings for the Boss, and that scares him.





	You Can't

**Author's Note:**

> Title will most likely change. It's, "You Can't" right now because, believe it or not, I randomly thought of Gat screaming that at the boss (who knows why) while the plane was going down and BAM fanfiction happened. 
> 
> This does have my boss James, but I certainly hope that does not discourage you from reading! (Tip: I keep google docs up, copy and past, and use the find word and replace tool for the name and the rest I just replace in my brain as I read it ;))
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and seeing as it is almost 1 am I might not work on the second chapter tonight like I'd hoped :0 but I'll try to get it ASAP :D

There was a very limited number of things that scared Johnny Gat. 

 Getting killed was not one of them. Shoot him, stab him, beat him, blow him up, or tie him to a chair and leave him to rot--it mattered little to him. He had seen his fill of things, had fucked his share of wenches and swam in  more dirty money than he could ever hope to count. No, Johnny was not afraid of dying. He had already done so the day Aisha was taken from him; there was nothing that could faze him now, except that same one thing:

Death.

It was not dying that Johnny was afraid of, but watching death creep up on the people he loved and pluck them from him one by one. There was a time when he thought himself cold, when he could watch his comrades die and take it with a grain of salt. It was , "part of the job," and he knew--as well as they did--what risks that meant taking. They knew what they were getting into. Or at least that's what he'd told everyone else; it was what he told himself. 

But when Aisha died, it changed. He became less calloused, less indifferent.  After the stark, violent, crimson coloured rage and grief had boiled beneathe his skin, anything else just felt cold. After killing Shogo he was more numb than anything.  He didn't choose not to feel because he simply couldn't.

But fuck all if the boss wasn't used to just showing up and turning Johnny's world upside down and defy every rule he's ever written. 

From the moment Julius picked him up, he knew that James was something special. He often heard religious fanatics on the streets preach of God and his, "divine purpose," "divine intervention," "divine circumstance," or some other divine bullshit; of course he never really believed in any of it. Even if it were true, what would this so called God owe him? As ironic as it was, being a Saint meant Johnny was going to hell either way, so he never paid, "God" much mind anyhow. 

But when James set foot in that old, rundown church, Johnny could've swore up and down that it was all true--God and his divine intervention crap--because that scrawny, manourished boy that stood before him was _born_ to be a Saint, and he knew that there was no other explanation of how he'd ended up there other than fate. 

And if God wanted him back, then he'd have to fight Johnny for him because he didn't plan on letting him go yet. Not now. Not twenty years from now; even if the world were to burn to ash, he'd stand atop it all, James at his side. 

A bullet shot by his head, skidding against the desk that the three of them had jumped behind and richocheted into the metal hull of the breached plane. 

"God dammit, how many are there!?" Reloding his obsidian 45 Sheperd, James cursed under his breath as more shots rang out and pierced metal with a worrying efficiency. 

"Like, half a dozen guys?" Johnny had his pistol at the ready and a hand clutching his abdomen where Loren had stabbed him, his back against the metal as he leaned out to evaluate their standings. A Mornigstar agent snapped his aim to him as soon as he'd exposed himself. "Dammit. They're not gonna just bend over and take it, Boss! And they've got a shit ton of more guys comin'." It was hard to even hear himself over the deep rumbling of air sucking into the cabin; he doubted that James had.

"Alright you assholes!" Johnny whipped around at the Boss' sudden outburst, the red-head sitting up on his knees, arms outstretched to take aim, entire torso leaned over the desk and vulnerable. 

"What the hell are you doin'!?" Johnny grabbed the black cloth of the man's shirt, pulling him down and towards him. "I _said_ they have more guys comin'! And these guys ain't like the gangs back in Stilwater, dumb ass! You can't take 'em!" 

"The hell I can't! I'm not going to let the problem fester!" Shrugging violently to get him off of him, James reloaded his pistol, amber eyes staring into Johnny's from behind his shades. His expression said it all: he knew he couldn't take them, but he was still going to try.

And suddenly Johnny was afraid. He grabbed him again, pulling him back down only to be shrugged off harder.

"You can't do this, James! I'm tellin' you there's too many!"

"And when the fuck have you been one to back down from a fight? We have to kill Loren _now_. _"_ A piece of metal from the side of the plane blew off from the intensity of the wind, flying by them and clanging loudly against another. 

"And when have you been dumb enough to dismiss the obvious?" He thrust his bloodied hand up as if to prove his point, " I've been fuckin' stabbed, Shaundi's about out of bullets, and you've got enough bravado up your ass to get us all killed!" James' grip on his gun tightened, the tenseness in his shoulders suggesting that he was about to ignore him and keep shooting anyway, but after a quick moment, he flopped back down, dodging bullets.

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Not we. You two've gotta bail!" And James looked at him as if he were insane.

"Not without you!"

"Man, I ain't plannin' on dyin' yet, but you gotta--"

"I said I'm not fucking going without you, dammit!" Johnny groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders.

"Listen here, you dick. I said you're goin' without me. So why don't you make my life easier and just fuckin' _listen_ to me!?" This wasn't about killing Loren anymore. This was just about making sure James got out of this alive, and if the man knew that then he'd tell Johnny to toughen the fuck up, that he'd gone soft. And maybe it was true, but fuck it.

James was all that mattered to him anymore, but damn if Johnny remembered when that had happened.

"What about the plane?" The both of them snapped their heads to look at Shaundi. Releasing the Boss and taking the moment to rack up a couple points on some guys that were getting close, Johnny chuckled.

"I'll fly it back to Stilwater and meetchu there." The Boss was back up trying to shoot people again, but what he could see of her from over him, she didn't look too impressed.

"Johnny you can't even drive stick, how you gonna fly a _plane?"_

"Ah, details, details." Shaundi looked about ready to punch him, but Johnny just shot another guy in the face as the Boss came back down for another reload only to realise that he was out of ammo. "Now you two go--I've got this!"

But as soon as the words escaped his mouth, a thunderous boom vibrated the steel sketeton of the aircraft as an eruption of flames and debris exploded from beside them. Insinctively, Johnny grabbed at James as the side of the plane was ripped open, violently extruding Morningstar and cargo alike as the entirety of their world began to tip.

Johnny had James and James had Shaundi and try as she might, there was no way in hell she could hold the weight of both of them. A crate of cargo slid towards them, slamming against the table and making it whine under the strain.

"The table isn't gonna hold! The bolts are coming loose!" But Johnny could hardly hear her, the agonising groan of the failing engines eveloping every other sound. The plane was almost completely sideways now. Johnny looked beneathe them; the broken hull revealed the flashy tranquility of Steelport and miles and miles of black, seasalt water. 

The first set of bolts were ripped from the floor, jeking them all abruptly downwards and eliciting shouts from each of them. Johnny felt his fingers slipping.

"FUCK!" James roared in pain, his arms outstretched between the two of them, trying to hold both Johnny's weight and his own. He glanced up at him, the table just out of his reach. He looked down again, and although his body still slightly rested against the tilted frame of the plane, his feet dangled over the chasm of debris filled air. Any minute and they'd be completely vertical, and Johnny knew that James couldn't hold him. 

"No!" He heard from above him, and when he looked back up, James was glaring at him with an knowing intensity that Johnny had never seen from him before. Shaundi, too, was trying to hold on and yet staring at him so ferociously. "Don't you dare!"

"Don't do it, Johnny!" But what other choice did he have? He thought back to Aisha again, how he came so damn _close_ to saving her. But she died trying to warn him--to _save_ him--and so now he was simply returning the favour.

"You can't hold the both of us." A stomach churning groan from the middle bolts made their insides churn.

"I'll tear my arms from both sockets before I let you go!" And the fastenings gave way, causing another jerk downward that only made Johnny's grip slimmer and James' agony intensify. "AHHH--DON'T YOU LET GO! DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT! You're just going to act the hero now!? What the fuck! Taking bullets, dropping out of a plane to save us!? Stop being such a selfish _prick!_ You wanna be the hero, then fucking listen to _me_ for once in your god dammed life!"

Johnny didn't know what to say. He didn't have time to think. Putting his feet against the last bit of table that Shaundi had gotten on top of, James howled in pain as he used all of his strength to give Gat some momentum. "GRAB THE LEDGE!" He roared, releasing his hold on Johnny and sending him towards the broken part of the plane wall-turned- floor.

He almost missed. His torso hit roughly against the jagged metal, digging into his stab wound and making him gasp from the pain. He gripped onto whatever he could find; his arms shook as he pulled himself up, the vigorous, gusting wind maing his jacket flap up behind his head. 

And times like these were the reasons he believed that there was a God of any kind--divine or just fucking sly as shit--because there under debris and the corpse of a very unlucky Morningstar were two parachute packs.

"Fuckin' A." He went to grab it but as he did, the sounds of the last bolts giving way penetrated his relief. Just as he turned, he saw it rip from it's base and watched as Shaundi and James began plummeting to Earth. "Fuck! Fuck! Oh, Fuck!" He grabbed hold of the dark green material of the pack, but when he pulled, it pulled back. One of the straps was lodged between a bent piece of the plane wall.

"Dammit! C'mon! You fucking! Piece! Of SHIT!" But the pack didn't come loose. He slammed it back down and grabbed the debris, flung it to the side and shouldered the other one, and without a second thought, he jumped. 


End file.
